Victoria's Child
by ShadowPrayers
Summary: Anne Still-Hart is fifteen years old with the social aptitude of a three year old. She prefers books over people and sign language over speaking. And, she is being forced by her mother to move to Otis, Oregon halfway through the school year. Little does she know, Otis holds a truth much bigger than she can imagine. It holds a family and mate that never should've existed.
1. Chapter 1: Otis

**So I got this amazing idea. At least, I hope it's amazing. It's about Victoria and a little girl named Anne, who Victoria claims is her daughter. Where did Anne come from? How did Victoria live through Eclipse? Why did Victoria stop trying to get revenge? How did Laurent come back from the grave? Discover these questions and more in this riveting tale of a seemingly-human child and a seemingly-evil vampire.**

My mother passed the first mile marker to Otis, Oregon when I finally decided to look at her. I hadn't spoken to anyone in four days, twelve hours, and thirty six minutes. It wasn't hard, not speaking, but it was grating on my mom's last nerve. In the beginning, she had tried to hide her aggravation by prattling on and on about Otis. Halfway through the trip she'd fallen silent, switching on the radio and filling the car with Beethoven.

Really, what did she think I was going to do when she told me she got a promotion that would require us to move all the way across the country? Jump for joy? Um, I'm going to say no. I was in the middle of my junior year, so close to graduation that I could almost taste it! And, now I was going to have to start all over.

I was an awful people-person. My mother knew that better than anyone. I could make the friendliest person in the world hate me just by looking at them. It was through sheer luck that I had managed to befriend two people by the time I left Maine. They were twins and they were both blind and deaf. I sighed, wishing I could've at least stayed in touch with them.

The weather was my only condolence. It was going to be relatively the same as Maine, wet and wet and more wet. The best part was that I wouldn't stand out with my pale skin- the only tan here would be the spray-on kind.

Mom's sweet child-like voice lilted over the simple melody of Bach's 'Divertimento', puncturing the silent bubble we were in. I turned away pointedly as she said, "Anne, cheer up! Think about all the friends you'll meet. It's only a year and a half before we travel to Europe! We'll go to Venice, Paris, Rome, even London! Imagine, darling! Your suffering will be short-lived. I just need to save up a tad more…"

Against my will a few tears stained my cheeks, "Momma, I just want to go home."

"I know, Darling," Momma whispered as we passed a sign that said we were two miles away from Otis. The sky was weeping big fat tears, mocking me in a way. I glared at it, aiming all my devastation at the roiling clouds. It did no good.

"Why?" The question was barely a breath, but it hung in the car like a boulder, crushing me to the seat.

Mom stayed quiet for a while before saying, "Home isn't a specific place or building, you know. Home is where the people you love are. We will have a home so long as we have each other."

I nodded, wiping away my tears. "Yes, Mama," I said in a raspy voice.

"Now, look alive. We're coming into the town proper!" she patted my back as we pulled through. This spot of country wasn't worthy of the title town as far as I was concerned. The place had one road and that road didn't even have a stop light. It was more like a blip on a map with a post office, fire department, and café.

"I thought we were moving near the coast," I stated with a hint of annoyance. Where was the break in trees and green? Where was the water?

"That's in Lincoln City, where you'll be going to school. It's about fifteen, twenty minutes away from here on Highway 101," Mom supplied helpfully.

In other words, we were stuck with green, green, and more green without even the smallest hope of a little bare rock or water. My life was always infested with greenery; until now I hadn't realized how much I'd come to despise the stuff. I understood that it gave oxygen to us humans, but did there have to be so much? No, certainly not!

About ten minutes later we turned off onto a dirt road that led to a gravel drive. I shifted in my seat, curious as to what my mother had bought. She hadn't shown me any pictures. It was better for me to 'see it for myself.' She chuckled as I shifted impatiently, but didn't bother telling me to calm down.

"James Manor," Mom intoned as we finally came upon our house. It was quite marvelous for a house out in the middle of nowhere. It was a modern version of a log cabin on stilts with sleek windows and a wraparound porch. I smiled, but quickly arranged it into a frown. I couldn't be _happy_ about moving here, now could I?

For good measure, I slammed the car door shut as I got out. Mom petted my hair as she passed me and pulled out her key. She told me that my room was on the third floor. I nodded and rushed to it as soon as the door opened.

The first two floors were pretty standard, with stately, no nonsense stairways, but, the stairway to the third floor was fashioned in a spiral. The spiral staircase was a secret desire I'd been harboring since I was a little girl. I rolled my eyes. Mom was really trying to get on my good side.

I ascended the stairs carefully and found myself in a loft-like room. It was small, as if the original owners had first intended it to be an attic, but that was alright. I was still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that my room wasn't on the third floor, it _was _the third floor.

I turned my attention to the rest of the room. Three walls were white, waiting for me to paint them at my leisure. I say three because the entire back wall was comprised of windows. If I didn't know any better I would've thought I was outside. There was a marvelous view of the surrounding forest from here.

I allowed myself to smile softly as I stared out into the wilderness. All the greens weren't so bad from up here. They would actually be beautiful if they weren't a part of my prison. The thought gave me an idea. A sketch began to form in my mind, urging me to put it to paper. I needed my sketchpad. Where were all my boxes? My bed was already put together, but that was the only inhabitant aside from me.

"How do you like it?" Mom asked. I jumped, clutching my heart to my chest.

"You scared me woman!" I yelped and blinked at her with big eyes. "It's okay, I guess. Where are my things?"

"They're downstairs in the living room. The idiot mover obviously didn't know how to read."

"I take offense to that!" a man with a distinct accent bellowed from somewhere downstairs. "I'm pretty intelligent you know!"

"Laurent!" I squealed happily as he entered my room. I ran towards him without abandon, eagerly being swept into a bone-crushing hug. I hadn't seen him in two whole years. He was the uncle/brother I never had. "What rock have you been hiding under?"

"I could say the same Little Red," he chuckled softly. "I would never miss your sixteenth birthday. It's coming very soon, you know!"

"It's in six months, Laurie. At least you will lessen my pain and suffering!"

Mom glared at me playfully. Laurent interrupted our banter by asking, "How is the planning going Victoria?"

What was she planning for my birthday? It must be big for Laurie to come six months in advance! Suspicion bloomed in my mind, but I didn't know how to acquire the answers I sought. I'd just have to bide my time and wait. Waiting was what I did best!

Mom gave Laurie 'the look' and said, "Why don't you help me get the rest of her boxes, Laurent?"

He sighed, looked at me with his big black eyes, and retreated downstairs. I flopped down on my bed and took off my shoes and socks. I wriggled my toes, delighting in the freedom. Mom hated shoes, too. It was a habit I'd picked up from her.

Once I was sure I was far enough behind, I proceeded to follow them. I really needed a nice glass of cherry Kool-Aid. I hadn't eaten or drunken a single thing since we left Maine. It'd been out of stubbornness, obstinacy which my belly now regretted.

The kitchen was on the second floor, well out of Mom and Laurie's way. I thanked God. I didn't want to help out with the boxes any more than they wanted me to. I was the most klutzy girl on the face of the earth. I could break an Otterbox in less than five minutes just by carrying it around. There was no telling what I'd do to all my precious memories.

I shivered as I walked across the stone floor to the four boxes stacked on the kitchen table. I read the tag on the top box: 'plates'. The one below that read silverware and the one below that read glasses. I carefully shifted the boxes and lowered them to the floor. My favorite Mickey Mouse mug was at the very top, wrapped a million times in paper.

"Kool-Aid's in the fridge," Mom said as she passed by with three boxes. I flinched, but smiled, swaggering to the fridge. She was a sneaky one, my mom. Unlike most parents, she really did have eyes in the back of her head. I swear to it.

I poured myself a glass and sat down for a moment to relax. Supper would be Laurie's duty tonight. I didn't care what he thought. He could make the best chicken fettuccini ever. It was like heaven in my mouth.

Laurie popped in and grabbed the Kool-Aid pitcher, as if reading my mind. I tossed him a mug, which he caught. I pouted while he chuckled.

"_I'm_ the one with the wicked reflexes in this family!" Mom grinned like a Cheshire cat as she entered. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah? Well, I'm the one who caught the mug!"

I sent Mom her mug just as he said that. She caught it without even turning her head. "Take it back," she grinned smugly.

"I shall never Queen Victoria!" Laurent replied as he poured a generous amount in both glasses and popped them in the microwave. They were so weird sometimes. What adult drinks Kool-Aid, let alone _hot_ Kool-Aid?

I finished my glass and went upstairs to unpack. I wouldn't be able to sleep tonight if all the boxes were piled up, looming over me like murderous shadows. My imagination was so screwed up. I shook my head and got to it. There was a lot of crap in there….

I took a break for dinner, which was, naturally, Fettuccini. I chugged it down with a tall glass of Kool-Aid and got back to work. It took four long hours of grueling work before I was mostly done. Everything important was tucked away in my closet, bureau, or desk. A few boxes of knickknacks, photos, and other memorabilia were shoved underneath my bed for later examination.

I ran my fingers through my hair before adding the final touch: my books. I took each of them with careful hands and lined them up on the shelf that hung over my bed. Most were older than my mom, if not my grandma. I bought them from antique and consignment shops and restored them as best as I could. I loved Jane Austen, Shakespeare, Charlotte Brontë, John Bunyan, you name it. If it was older than the 1950s, I'd probably read it and read it again.

It was about ten when I'd finally finished, so I got in bed. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. School was coming and coming fast.

I woke up bright and early, ready to face the day. Ha, I wish. I woke up twenty minutes late to my mom threatening to throw cold water all over me. "Anne Marie Still-Hart, this is your last chance. Get up before I get the ice bucket!"

"I'm up, mum!" I shrieked and sat up quickly.

"It's six thirty. The Mom-o-bile leaves at seven whether you're in it or not," Mom told me as she sauntered downstairs. "Laurent made breakfast, by the by."

I hopped up, shivering at the cold floor, before snatching my lingerie, a long sleeve shirt and pair of jeans from my bureau. I ran to the bathroom that was on the second floor, realizing that that was the only bummer about my room; it didn't have an adjoining bathroom. My shower lasted three minutes, a sure record. I toweled off and threw on my clothes. I'd unwittingly grabbed my favorite pair of Abercrombie jeans and a wine red turtleneck. It was the only turtleneck I owned mainly because I hated turtlenecks.

Time was not on my side, so I shrugged it off and began brushing my hair. It was a tangled mess of bronze curls that were unruly at best and wild at worst. When I finally tamed my hair I brushed my teeth and went downstairs. "Morning," I told Laurie cheerfully. He rolled his eyes and handed me a plate of toast and egg whites along with a glass of cherry Kool-Aid.

"Your messenger bag and lunch box is by the door. Victoria is awaiting you in her chariot. It's six fifty seven by the way."

I downed my drink and eggs, shoved the toast in my mouth, and rushed towards the front door. I slid my chucks on while I shrugged into a light jacket. It was blacker than night. I pulled my bag over my head, snatched my lunch box up, and raced out the door with my shoes still untied. It was drizzling slightly, a maelstrom in the making.

"Looks like you got lucky," she chuckled as I jumped into the car. "Tie your shoes. I don't feel like taking you to the hospital today."

I grumbled under my breath as I tied my shoes.

"What was that?" she asked sternly.

"I was just saying how wonderful of a mother you were," I replied sweetly. I zipped up my jacket, warding away some of the cold. Why was Oregon so cold? Even Maine didn't seem this frigid. Perhaps it was the perpetual mass of clouds that made it seem that way.

I watched the road, waiting for my new school to come into view. It did not disappoint. It was like any other high school in the continental US. It was made out of the standard red brick and shaped into a large penitentiary square. All it needed was bars on the windows and the institutionary appearance would be complete.

"Well, here we are: Taft High School. Have a wonderful day, Love," Mom kissed my head lightly as I got out. I sighed and wished my mom farewell. It was time to go to my doom.

**So what do you think? Review please! Thanks!**


	2. Chapter 2: Jacob

**Okay, so I'm kinda disappointed. No one's commented on my new story yet... bummer. Oh, well! I hope that as I continue posting chapters, someone will fancy reading it. If there's anything I can fix, tell me! I always love positive criticism. Nothing hateful, pease! I give you cookie for reviewing! COOKIES! COOKIES! COOKIES! Now review! God Bless!**

So, the school wasn't that bad. I walked in the main entrance surrounded by students clad in monotone jackets and hoodies. Grey and black seemed to be the choice color for outerwear in this school, which I didn't mind. I didn't stick out as much.

I headed for the area just inside the school marked '**OFFICE**.' There was an older lady with laugh lines around her eyes sitting behind a secretary's desk. I could tell she was the gentle, kindly type, unlike the mean old secretary at my other school. She was a real pain in behind, always telling me to speak up and look her in the eyes when I spoke to her.

"Good morning, young lady! What can I do for you?" the secretary asked me. She spoke with a grandmotherly tone, making me wonder how many grandkids she had.

I flushed and looked down as I whispered, "I'm Anne Still-Hart and I'm new here."

"Oh, I'm Mrs. Sullivan. You're Mom got offered a position at the art store, didn't she?"

"Yeah," I mumbled embarrassedly. Mom was an amazing artist, a hundred times better than anyone I would ever meet, including myself. She put Da Vinci and Monet to shame.

"Well, here's your schedule and agenda book. Lunch is at eleven fifteen, after third period, and I need all your teachers to sign this slip to verify your enrollment in their class. Your locker is in the English hall, 244. Oh, right! Here's your lock; the code is written on the paper attached to it. Have a lovely day, Anne. I'm sure you'll simply love it here!"

I smiled as well as I could as I slipped the papers and lock off her desk. People made me antsy. I didn't know what to say, do, or even think sometimes. I exited as quickly as possible and went to find my locker. It was on the other end of the school which wasn't that far. There was a small population here, only five hundred students ranging from 7th to 12th grade. Back in Maine my graduating class alone had had seven hundred students in it.

I undid my lock and wrote the combo on my hand, knowing I'd have it memorized by the day's end. My bag was emptied of the few things I brought (a folder, pencil pouch, notebook, and drawing pad) before it was hastily stuffed away with my lunch bag. I checked my schedule for first period and found that it was Advanced Algebra 2 in Room 100. Remarkably I wasn't late for that class.

In fact, I was ten minutes early. So, I selected a seat by a window and took out my drawing pad. I became so engrossed by my work that I nearly fell out of my seat when the bell rang. As it were, I shrieked like a little girl, jerking just enough to send my sketch book flying off my desk. Everyone laughed wholeheartedly at the spectral. I flushed and picked up my book quickly.

"Good morning, Class!" a male teacher walked in with vigor that no one felt. "I see we have a new student! I allow my students to sit wherever they want as long as they don't cause any trouble. Where you are is, fortunately, an empty seat. Would you care to tell us about yourself?"

I turned a horrendous shade of red as I stood up and stuttered through my name. He proceeded to ask me where I was from and how I liked Oregon. I lied through my teeth about the latter and happily sat back down.

The class ended rather quickly, being a little less than an hour long. "Sir," I raced up to the teacher and handed him my slip. He took it and signed it with a flourish. "Thank you!" I whispered before taking my leave. I bumped right into a boy who was twice my size, barely keeping a grip on my things.

"Hey, I'm Gabe," a distinctly Native American boy grinned easily at me. His dark hair was long and worn in a ponytail. He looked like a nerdy jock: gangly and tall with oversized glasses he had to continuously push up his nose.

"Anne," I responded as I headed out to the hall.

"Which class are you heading to?"

"Economics, Room 145," I replied without bothering to check my schedule. I had spent most of Algebra memorizing the sheet of paper so I wouldn't have to keep looking at it between classes.

"Really? Me too! You're going to love Hannah. Er, I mean Mrs. Whitewater. She teaches History, too."

"Are there a lot of Native American students at this school?" I asked quietly. There was a Native American Reservation nearby, I knew, but I didn't know if this was the school where the reserve kids went.

"I think there are thirty two Native American students and a hundred two Hispanic students. Four hundred, I mean four hundred one, white kids," he chuckled. So, I'd take it that the reserve kids went somewhere else. It was too bad. I wanted to learn some of their stories and language.

"I'm albino, thank you very much," I said defensively.

He froze for a moment before realizing that I was just joking. "Huh, you're an interesting person, Anne," Gabe mused.

We entered Econ together, chattering quietly. Hmm, I was actually talking to someone who I'd known for less than five minutes. Score for Anne.

"Hello," the teacher said warmly. "You must be Anne." She was plainly Native American with silky black hair and almond eyes to match. Her skin was the color of finely roasted chestnuts. "You can sit beside Charity, over in the far corner. I'll sign your paper at the end of class."

"Thanks," I retreated back to my seat and doodled most of the period. Charity was a preppy girl with blonde hair, 'sun-kissed' skin, and big blue eyes rimmed in black eyeliner. Her purse was Coach and her jeans were Miss-Me. She reeked of new money and Chanel No. 5.

"So, you're like the new girl?" she asked me as she chewed a stick of gum. I think it was spearmint.

I jerked my head in response, cheeks coloring from the attention. She smiled, showcasing teeth that could have only been perfected by braces.

"Why don't you sit with me at lunch today- Anna is it? What period do you have next?"

"Advanced English with Payne," I whispered, wishing I hadn't agreed to such a torturous lunch period.

"Good, we're in the same wing. I'll meet you outside your class."

With that she turned away from me and began texting underneath the table. I sighed and pulled out my notebook to commence note-taking. For such a nice lady, Mrs. Whitewater sure talked fast.

Lunch came all too soon. I never wanted English to end, even if I was rereading a few plays from Shakespeare. It was tedious to me because I had each play practically memorized. I didn't bother to open the humungous book the teacher had given me, filled with excess information about Shakespeare and surplus proliferation on what each and every phrase meant.

We were in Advanced English for crying out loud. Surely the students knew what Shakespeare meant when Juliet asked Romeo, "Wherefore art thou Romeo?" So, instead of reading along, I mouthed each word as she read the book aloud to the class. If I finished before her, I moved along to some other play or poem. I think I went through Hamlet, A Midnight Summer's Dream, Romeo and Juliet, and Othello, and we only read Romeo and Juliet. I loved Shakespeare to death, no pun intended.

"Hey there, Janet!" Charity popped up in front of me, smiling all fake-like. I barely flinched. Mom had trained me well.

"It's Anne," I muttered angrily. How did Anne sound like Janet at all?  
"Of course! C'mon, we're going to be in the back of the line!"

"Oh, I got to get my lunch bag!" I gasped. I'd almost forgotten it. There was one thing to be grateful to Charity for, I guess. It was just fortunate that my locker was in that hall.

Charity snorted as if it were the stupidest comment in the world. "Who brings their lunch to school anymore?"

I rolled my eyes and replied, "Me." I undid my lock and snagged my Vera Bradly lunch bag. It was a pretty yellow and pink spring pattern that had been retired last year. It had taken everything I had to convince Mom to get it for me. She wasn't into the latest gadgets and gizmos or the latest fashions and designs. It was whatever looked cute to her; my lunch bag did not make the cut.

"Cute," she giggled at it. I huffed and followed her down the hall to the lunchroom. It was small with only two lines and a salad bar. There were quite a few kids in there, but certainly not as many as normal. First shift was supposed to be the hectic shift.

"Is this first shift?" I asked.

"You're looking at the entire high school, Annie."

"Anne."

"Whatever. Go sit down at the table in the center of the lunchroom, the round one. I'll catch you in a jiff."

I sighed and retreated over to her table, quickly pulling out my sandwich, thermos, and yogurt when I got there. Mm, Laurie had fixed a turkey club on wheat. I smiled and prayed over my food before taking a big bite of my wonderful sandwich. I supplemented it with a swig of Kool-Aid and watched kids join my table with mild interest.

I realized that I was sitting at the popular table after the second girl who sat down looked like a carbon copy of Charity. Most of the popular kids looked at me like I was some freak-show, but a few looked at me like, well, like they wanted me dead. Charity sat down next to me and began introductions. The only names I remembered were the two that hated me: Jamie and Katelyn. They were fake blondes with fake tans and real fire burning bright in their green eyes. I could see each set flickering with intense anger and hatred: yep, they definitely wanted me dead.

Suddenly, the cafeteria seemed to get quieter as the doors swung open. "Don't fret. You're not the only new kid, Ms. Antoinette," Charity mused.

I looked up from my food, eyes searching for the other new kids. They were as beautiful as Mom, if not more so because they were my age.

It was strange how they walked in twos, sort of like they were entering Noah's ark. First, a big burly dude that was literally the size of a bear entered with a lithe blonde girl on his arm. He could eat two of me and call it his appetizer. Not someone I wanted to mess with.

Then, a petite pixie girl bounced through the doors with precision that would be almost impossible to mimic. It was like every step she took was to music so beautiful us mundane would never have the privilege of hearing it.

Beside her was a blonde boy who was muscular yet slender. His face was screwed up in concentration. I felt that he had a severe headache or something of the sort. I liked his hair a lot.

Next was a guy with the same rust color hair as me, a rare feat to be sure. It was disheveled, accenting his angular face. He was muscular, too, but it wasn't as prominent as the other guys'. He was leaner than the brunette, not that the brunette was fat, and taller than the blonde. Near him was a girl with a heart-shaped face and long brown curls. She was plainer than the other blonde girl, but it was a sweet plain.

"Those are the Cullen's. The larger dude is Emmett and the girl who looks like Barbie's twin is Rosalie. Don't get me wrong, she's beautiful, but how much of her do you think is plastic? Botox is not always the right idea, girl. The pixyish girl is Alice and the guy who looks like you just stabbed his left toe is Jasper. The totally hot bronze dude is Edward and _his _doll is Bella. They moved here about a month ago, so they're not _new, _new. They're just new. They have a younger sister, but she normally doesn't eat lunch in the cafeteria. She and her beau eat in the library so she can study. I think its 'cause her beau doesn't get along with the other Native American boys, if you catch my drift."

I changed my gaze to the area she was looking at. About fourteen boys were crowded around two rectangular tables haphazardly shoved together. One of those boys was Gabe. He was glancing at me intermittently with a lost look on his face. It was strange, his sad eyes amidst the raucous laughter of his mates. They were a tumble of life, pushing and shoving each other to steal a bite of someone else's meal, falling out of their seats in the process. It was nothing like my table- the gossip table- or the Cullen's table- the silent table.

Charity gave a sharp, false giggle before tapping me on the shoulder. With a bad feeling in my stomach, I turned to her as she said, "Looks like Gabriel's got a thing for you. He's cute- for an Indian."

For some reason beyond me that ticked me off. She had no right to judge Gabriel just because he was a Native American boy. I gave her a sharp look which made her snort.

"You _like_ that trash, don't you? Oh my! Kaylee, Andria likes an-"

**SCREECH! **I pushed my chair back, hard, against the aluminum floor, forcing Charity to go silent. She stared at me curiously as I relinquished the full force of my infuriated gaze on her. "It's Anne, you witch!" And, with that, I dumped my yogurt all over her pretty platinum blonde head. She screamed bloody murder as I sauntered off with thermos and lunch bag in hand.

Now you see why I don't have any friends. I sighed as I stormed down the hall, taking a large swig of my untouched Kool-Aid. Mom had heated it up; in spite of myself, it brought a small smile to my lips. While I insisted I liked it cold, Mom knew I was lying and often heated it up when she knew I was going to have a hard day. Call it motherly intuition if you will. She _did_ carry me in her womb for nine grueling months.

I wondered around the halls, sipping my Kool-Aid, until the bell rang. Biology was next on the list. The hallways filled with students, catching me slightly by surprise, but I managed to wade my way to the right place. The first person I noticed was a girl with my rusty hair color. She must be that younger sister Charity was talking about. I knew this because she was ethereal with her clear, milky skin and doe-like eyes. If I didn't know better I'd say she was a seraphim sent from Heaven.

"You must be Anne Still-Hart," the teacher said. I think his name was Mr. Baxter. "Do you have your slip?"

I nodded quietly and shakily handed over the slip. He took it courteously and signed it with a flourish. Show off.

"Would you care to share something about yourself with the class?" Oh, so he was one of _those_ teachers.

I blushed before whispering, "My name is Anne Still-Hart. I'm from Maine…"

"Is there something interesting about yourself that you would like to share?" he prodded like I was the greatest enigma he'd ever seen, which, I assure you, he hadn't. He was just trying to get me 'out of my bubble.' Well, good sir, my bubble hasn't popped in fifteen years, and it ain't gonna now.

I thought for a moment before replying, "My middle name is James, after my late father."

"Thank you, you may be seated by Renesemee," Mr. Baxter said. I nodded shortly and practically ran to my seat. Bad idea. My foot snagged on someone's purse, which may or may not have been place in the aisle purposefully, and I gracelessly fell to the ground.

Gales of laughter surrounded me as I unsteadily stood up and planted myself firmly in my seat. Renesemee, who I immediately renamed Nessie, looked at me with considerable anger before turning to face the board. Huh, wonder what that was about.

I commenced more meticulous note-taking as I sucked at biology. This school was a whole unit ahead of my old school. I'd have to do some catching up at home. Argh. Why did life hate me?

Finally, the bell rang, easing me from my torture. Nessie hopped up on delicate feet, totally unlike my bricks, and left the room without another glance at me. She was a little snob, wasn't she? I hadn't done a thing to her that I was aware of. Unless she was friends with Charity, but Charity hadn't made it sound like they were on good terms... I guess I'd found my own enigma to pursue.

"Hey!" a big, burly guy crushed me into a hug as I exited the classroom. I squirmed until he let go, trying to catch my breath and size him up at the same time. He was quite handsome with jet black hair and even darker eyes. His skin was like tanned leather except softer. I kind of wanted to see what his full lips felt like on mine.

I jerked my head and replied, "Hey yourself!"

"How was class?" he took my books as he asked the question. Was this the welcoming committee? I didn't know any guy who was willing to carry a girl's books if she wasn't his girlfriend.

"Good?" I replied warily. "Who are you?"

"It's Jake, Nessie. How could you forget a stud like me?"

"I'm not-"

A blood-curling shriek echoed through the air, answering my statement before I could. Renesemee stormed down the hallway, tears flecking her eyes. Jake looked from her to me to her again, bewildered.

"Who are you?" he stuttered. I suddenly put two and two together and realized that Jake was her beau. Well, crap.

I opened my mouth to reply, but a guffaw drew my attention to the two Cullen boys who were privy to the scene. They seemed to think Jake's position was hilarious.

"I'm Anne Still-Hart. May I have my books back before your girlfriend destroys them for touching your holy imminence?"

"Uh, sure." He gave me my books before rushing to Nessie to comfort her. I couldn't help the small smile that painted my face as I turned towards my next class. That was _too_ funny.

**Everyone has three lives; a public life, a private life, and a secret life. **


	3. Chapter 3: Gabe

**I thank GrimFWaters and LilGreenearth97. Their reviews were so helpful! Two cookies to both of ya'll. Well, here's the next chappie. **

The pixie girl and the burly man were in my next class, Spanish Five. The teacher directed me to a seat near the back of the class, right behind the girl and beside the man. I shuddered, considering what it would feel like for him to wrap his big meaty palms around my neck.

The teacher's question popped me out of my morbid thoughts. "¿Qué fue la semana pasada, Ane?"

"No sé, señora," I replied softly.

I had no idea what happened last week. What, did she think I was clairvoyant? I sighed and listened carefully as she asked another student the question. Despite myself, my attention was soon swayed towards the girl whose name I believe was Alice.

Every time I looked at her the name Mary came to mind. It felt right instinctually, but not mentally, if that makes any sense. She answered a lot of questions and spoke Spanish more fluently than I could ever. I think she might've grown up in a bilingual household.

The bell rang all too soon and everyone clambered to their feet. The teacher called out our homework over the mass of departing students. "Careful Blaze, where's the fire?" Emmett asked with a chuckle as I darted up out of my chair. My books tumbled out of my arms, to the unforgiving ground. I growled under my breath and knelt down to collect them; to my chagrin he helped.

"Wrong person, Em," Mary/Alice snickered quietly. Her voice was soft and airy, a vocal ballet performed in a single breath.

"Duh," Emmett chortled as he gave me the rest of my things. "I know it's not Ness. Ms. Teachy even…"

"Rose is waiting," Mary/Alice whispered impatiently. Okay… Did she not like me or something? I watched, confused, as they both raced off, quick as lightning.

I shrugged and went to my final two classes. To my utter dismay my next class was gym. I hit two girls in the head with a basketball and nearly broke someone's nose in the process, no joke. Charity was there, but she didn't give me any trouble. She actually apologized for her 'unforgivable' behavior towards Gabe. Uneasily, I responded with an apology of my own. Perhaps she wasn't the typical valley girl… perhaps.

Even so, my one condolence was my final class- art. The teacher was an odd character with flowing black hair that barely brushed his shoulder blades. It was pulled into a ponytail by a leather strap that had beads and feathers dangling from it. He was darker than any of the other Native Americans, so dark that one could almost mistake him for an African American man. His almond eyes and high cheek bones defined him for who he was, though.

He greeted me cheerfully in a language I knew not. I couldn't even pronounce the word he said. "You must be Anne," he said in a heavy accent that divulged his true age. At first I'd thought he was in his twenties; now, I knew he had to at least be in his late thirties.

"I'm Mr. Brooke. What is your experience in the arts?" his shoes tinkled as he moved. They were moccasins with clay beads threaded through the fringe.

"I do some free-hand drawing when I'm bored…" I replied quietly.

"Well good, because your first project will be to draw whatever you'd like in this notebook for the next week. At the week's end I'll take up your notebook and see where your skill level is. We'll go from there."

I took the black notebook from him, noting the thickness and quality of the paper. It made all the difference when you were sketching. He watched me as I did so, dark eyes vigilant as a hawk's. I thanked him and settled down by a window.

I looked out at the dim, grey clouds, yearning for a small break in them. There was none to be found. No sliver of sunlight, no hope for salvation. My pencil began moving of its own accord, lead leaving a trail of intriguing depth. Even I didn't know what my mind was trying to form.

"Hey," someone said to my right. I looked up to find Gabe watching me with that adorable puppy dog face of his.

I smiled and replied, "Hey yourself. What are you doing here?"

"Is it that hard to believe that I have an artistic side?" he feigned hurt as he laid his materials out. He was using charcoal to add finishing touches to his piece.

"While looking at _that_, well no," I replied as I eyed his drawing. "What is it exactly?"

The creature was like nothing I'd ever seen. It was like a wolf but larger and bipedal. Its eyes bored into me, anger burning like a forest fire in Arizona. I halfway expected the creature to leap out of the page and tear me to shreds.

He blushed before supplementing, "It's a werewolf. Stupid, I know, but my little brother is obsessed with them. Actually, he's obsessed with anything that can rip your face off without blinking: vampires, werewolves, pixies, the mermaids in Peter Pan, aye! I can't stand it sometimes!"

"Wouldn't this make his fixation worse?" I chuckled.

"Nah, he can't get any worse. His birthday is coming up, so I decided to use this period for something useful. What's that you've been drawing so fiercely on? I've never met someone who can draw without looking, you know."

I looked down at my drawing. I'd almost forgotten that the pencil was in my hand. I'd drawn the murky forest that surrounded my house, but it was alight with sunshine instead of rain. I smiled faintly as I subconsciously added people into the picture. Mom's form quickly took shape, carrying a picnic basket laden with goodies. Laurie was next, barely looming over my mom, carrying a much younger me on his back.

"It, it's my family," I stuttered in shock.

"Your dad looks very different from you," Gabe observed. I knew what he wasn't asking. Black plus white does not equal albino pale.

"He isn't my dad. He's a friend of my mom's. My dad died before I was born."

"Oh." Awkward silence ensued as I continued to sketch the edge of my new house. No one ever knew what to say when you told them your dad was dead. The loss was too long ago to every really impact me. Not to sound cold, but I'd never known my dad, so it didn't bother me as much as it did Mom. Laurie was like a surrogate father who filled that space my father had left behind.

Gabe went back to working on his werewolf, but the silence became comforting, friendly. Every now and then he'd look up, crack a lame joke, then get back to work. I rolled my eyes as I finished up my drawing.

Before I could chicken out, I went to the teacher who was working on something of his own. "Sir," I whispered as I could not recall his name.

"Yes ma'am?" he asked as he set down a pastel. I felt like he was mimicking me on purpose.

"Do I need to add color to my drawing?" I blushed at the prospect. I wasn't too good with colored pencils.

The teacher scrunched up his eye brows in heavy concentration. "Does it need color?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think the drawing needs color?"

"Well, no," I hesitated for a split second. "If I _could_ color then yes it would be nice."

"Let me see the drawing, Anne," he smiled encouragingly.

Grudgingly, I grabbed the notebook and gave it to him. He stared at it real hard, eyes roaming the page, taking in the details. "This is marvelous, Anne. Color is unnecessary for now. The people are central to this piece yet they are being overwhelmed by the scenery; try adding a bit more detail for effect."

I nodded quietly and returned to my seat. I added as much detail as possible before the bell rang, signaling our release from this prison. I leapt up, nearly falling over in the process. Gale shook his head and helped me gather my books, insisting on carrying them for me. I chuckled and playfully swatted him.

"If you aren't careful people would actually think we are a couple!" I said in mock horror. We went to my locker where I stored my books in my bag and uncapped my thermos. A little more Kool-Aid remained in the bottom, so I drank it eagerly.

"What is that anyways?"

"It's cherry Kool-Aid! Mom warms it up and puts it in the thermos every day. Don't you wrinkle your nose at me! It is good!" I shoved him with all my might, barely moving him.

Gabe snorted, "You are one odd person, Anne." Some of his buddies began calling to him, motioning wildly to catch his attention. "Well, I got to go. My lords are calling me!"

"Bye," I waved to him a little too enthusiastically. I shook my head, stupid, stupid, stupid. I heard catcalls of 'Somebody's got a girlfriend!' and 'Why didn't you kiss her you idiot?'

He shushed them angrily as I slammed my locker, tugged on the lock, and jogged out of the school. Mom's car was the first in line, waiting to pick me up.

"How was your day, Darling?"

"Fantastic," I replied distractedly.

She wrinkled her nose as she pulled out onto the street. "What is that terrible smell?"

"It could be Gabe. I think he has a dog or something. I didn't think it was that bad, though."

Her delicate voice went up an octave as she asked, "And who is this Gabe?"

I winced, unwilling to divulge the details of who Gabe was. I decided to stick with, "He's a friend."

"Do you mean a prospective boyfriend? See, you _can_ make friends, Anne. Did anything interesting happen?"

"Well, I did dump yogurt all over this chick's hair…"  
"YOU DID WHAT YOUNG LADY?"

"She was being racist against Gabe," I replied meekly. "I don't know what her deal is with Native Americans."

Mom sucked in a breath and cursed angrily. Then, she fell silent, internally debating about something. When we got home she stormed out of the car, screaming shrilly for Laurent. I ran my fingers through my hair before following her. Upon opening the door I was assaulted by a deluge of infuriated French. They were both speaking so rapidly I could barely pick out the words. Not that it would've helped, seeing as I knew about as much French as I did alien.

Out of nowhere they switched to Russian then German then Polish. I groaned and began walking towards the stairs. "Take off your shoes and coat. You're going to catch your death," Mom reprimanded me.

I kicked off my shoes and hung up my soggy coat before stealthily climbing the stairs. When I got to the top I placed my bottom on the railing and went soaring down them. It made Mom's lips quirk up into a smile, which was what I was aiming to accomplish.

Laurie caught me right as I ran out of railing. If he hadn't then gravity would've injured my buttocks very sorely. "Be careful young butterfly," Laurie shook his head with a laugh, "you have not yet grown your wings."

"Yeah, yeah," I waved my hand as he sat me down on my feet. "This caterpillar has been in her cocoon too long. Perhaps the wings are just wet?"

He ignored my comment and replied, "Go get something to eat, Anne. I went to the store and got a piece of apple pie just for you."

"You had me at pie," I feigned swooning and scurried upstairs for my food. I scarfed it down and got to work on my homework. It was fairly little for the first day, but it was better done quickly than never.

I went to get a drink of Kool-Aid and found the pitcher almost empty. "Momma," I called out.

"Yes?" Mom asked as she ascended the steps.

"Almost out of Kool-Aid," I showed her the near empty pitcher and moved to get a glass of water.

"Kay," she ruffled my hair affectionately before spiriting to who knows where. Laurie came around the corner and winked at me.

"We're going over certain… things, so don't you go peeping!" he let out a small laugh before following my mother. Oí! That woman was going to be the death of me. She was as volatile as the weather itself, one moment a furious hurricane and the next a gentle breeze.

I went to the living room downstairs and opened up a box that had yet to be stored away. The word Photos/ Memorabilia marked the top in Mom's big, loopy scrawl. A leather scrapbook was at the top, chock full of pictures. It began a few days after I was born and continued to present day. I smiled as I cracked it open, finding a beaming Mom with me on her hip. Her curly red hair was a wild mess, scattering in every which direction, and her clothes were a little on the rough side, but she looked almost the same as she did now.

She had always looked young, barely aging at all through the years. I blamed it on genetics and _lots_ of hair dye. Hopefully, when I got older, I'd age just as gracefully as her. I turned the page and was met with Laurie carrying me piggyback at my old house. I could see the fireplace, just behind him, roaring with warmth. It was getting near Christmas and my stocking was featured prominently with my name embroidered into it.

I set the scrapbook down on the coffee table. Mom had always kept it there, so it would be ready to be filled with more photos. My hand went back into the box, pulling out a framed photo of Dad. It was one of the only photos she had of him. It was the photo that made me slightly glad that I'd never known him. He had a cruel glint in his red eyes, as if he enjoyed watching people suffer. His mouth was turned up into a smirk as he posed for the photo.

Mom said he always wore red contacts to freak people out. She and Laurie wore them partly in memory of Dad. I didn't think their red contacts were as disconcerting as Dad's, though. His were just downright creepy.

I got up and put the photo on the fireplace mantle. Mom liked to display Dad so she would never forget what he looked like. This would quickly become my least favorite room, just like at the old house.

A pendant lay near the bottom of the box with a simple stone set in it. It was held together by a thick black nylon cord. I carefully picked it up, the day Mom had given it to me bright in my mind. I'd thought I'd lost it during the move from Maine. I quickly tied it around my neck, swearing that it would never come off again.

"Mom, I found my pendant!" I shouted merrily as I set the box aside.

"Wonderful!" she replied as she leapt down the steps. As I walked to her, I tried to make my steps look like a dance. If that Alice girl could pull it off surely I could. I only succeeded in giving my mom a good laugh.

"Are you a decapitated chicken, Anne?" Laurent asked. Where did he come from? I sighed under my breath.

"No, I'm a famous dancer from Broadway," I said snarkily. "The 'Dead Chicken' is all the rage right now, you know."

"You're such a bloody comedian, aren't ya?" Mom asked, allowing some of her British to come out. It was rarely seen nowadays, but it could make an appearance.

"Look Laurie!" I squealed, ignoring my mom's comment. "I found my pendant!"

"As I heard from the other side of the house," Laurie said wryly. He was constantly riding me for how 'loud' I was. "Why did James keep that darned thing anyways?"

Mom glared at him for daring to question Dad. She was fiercely protective of him even though he wasn't here anymore. "He got it from his father during the war. It was a trophy of sorts," she sniffed delicately.

Laurie snorted and took off before Mom could get ahold of him.

"You can run but you can hide, Laurent. I'll get you when Anne isn't around and you know it!"

Instead of falling for her bait, he dared not return. Mom could be violent when she wanted to be. For a petite, angelic woman she packed a hard punch and bore an even sharper tongue. I would never dare to get into a battle with her where words were concerned.

"Shall I compare thee to a midsummer day?" I inquired as I headed upstairs.

Mom laughed her child-like laugh, momentarily forgetting her anger, and replied, "Thou art more lovely and temperate."

**So, I hope it doesn't sound like I'm just writing pointlessly. I was trying to get more of a build on my character and the 'new' Victoria and Laurent. I didn't want to delve into the Cullen family yet. But Gabe, hmm. He seems like a marvelous love interest does he not? R&R for more cookies! **


	4. Chapter 4: Star Wars

**So here's chapter cuatro. Hope ya'll likey. ;) Thanks GrimFWaters! I'll try my best. I'm bad about rushing things sometimes!  
**

School wasn't so bad the next day. I was forced to take the big yellow limousine because Mom was working on some painting that she just _had_ to finish. There were mostly foul-mouthed middle school and whiny elementary school students on it. I wished, not for the first time, that I had an I-Phone or, at the very least, an I-Pod.

When we finally arrived to school I was the first off. We had less than five minutes to get to class thanks to the hulking monstrosity that could only manage five miles an hour without breaking down. I raced to my locker, collected my things, and made it to Economics right as the warning bell rang. Gabe smiled at me from across the room, mouthing something that I couldn't understand. I was awful at reading lips.

It made me a bit lighter knowing that I had an acquaintance, a cute acquaintance at that. He wore his hair down today. It brushed a little past his shoulders, gentle waves that accented his strong jaw.

After class he approached me yet again, this time to ask me to sit with him at lunch.

"Won't your friends be bothered?" I asked quietly. I didn't know if I fancied sitting with such rowdy boys.

"Undoubtedly," he replied without hesitation. His voice was flamboyant, careless. It made me even more wary of him. It was why I only considered him an acquaintance. "C'mon Anne!" he whined just like those darn six year olds. "I know you don't want to sit with the Pops today."

"What are the Pops?" I asked as I gathered my things. He confiscated them from me immediately, to my chagrin and delight.

"The popular group," he gave me a cheeky grin. "Brody came up with it, but I spread it around. I won't give you your books unless you agree."

"Okay, okay," I agreed quickly as the warning bell rang. He still didn't hand over my things. "I gotta get to class," I laughed and snagged my materials from his arms. I actually managed to keep them from tumbling to the ground.

"Bye," he waved before turning and rushing away.

Charity wasn't in English, thankfully. One student told the teacher that she was helping prepare for the pep rally that would be taking place tomorrow. Now I didn't have to turn down her invitation to lunch. Lunch, in itself, was going to be an event without that drama added to my load.

I dreaded the moment when the bell would ring, signaling lunch. Just because fate knew that little nugget of information it made time rush by.

Before I knew it I was grabbing my lunchbox from my locker, cursing my mother for packing it today. I would've rather waited in line with Gabe. It would've been less awkward to sit down at the table with him than without him.

As I entered the cafeteria, I searched for Gabe's distinct face. He wasn't there yet. I growled under my breath and stalked to his friends' table. They weren't sitting down yet; rather, they were jostling in line, vying for food like it would be their last meal. _Pigs._ I snorted quietly.

Settling down in a chair, I pulled out my food and quickly said a prayer over it. I really needed God's help with these boys. They were probably going to eat me alive when they saw me here. Oh, God, please, please let me get out of this alive, preferably with no broken or maimed limbs.

"Why are you here?" a tray slammed down on the table a little harder than necessary, causing me to jump in my seat. I was quite frankly afraid of this boy so I kept my eyes downcast, not daring to look at him.

"Um, Gabe asked me to, um, sit with him," I muttered lamely.

"Humph," he growled and proceeded to eat his mush. The blackboard plaque had proclaimed it as meatloaf, but I knew better. Meatloaf didn't look like cooked dog puke. Maybe I was grateful to my mom for fixing my lunch.

I took out my sandwich, peanut butter and jelly, and delicately tore it apart. It was a painful habit that I performed when I got nervous or anxious.

More boys joined the table, glaring at me most likely. I didn't look up to find out. Sure, I could practically feel the heat of their stares as I chewed on my sandwich, but as long as they didn't make eye contact I was fine. It was one thing to _think _someone was glaring at you; it was a whole other thing to _know_ someone was glaring, to see the hatred etched on their faces. And, quite frankly, it would deplete my tank of morale, putting it on _e_ for the remainder of the day.

Screech! I winced as the chair beside me chaffed against the aluminum floor. "Hey!" Gabe greeted merrily, completely unaware of the cold greeting I had received from his mates. Men! They were so clueless sometimes!

I nodded quietly, glancing up at him, faintly noticing the piney scent that emanated from his whole being. I unscrewed the cap on my thermos and inhaled the heady scent to try and relieve my stress. My heart rate only increased as my lungs worked overtime.

"Guys, have you met Anne Still-Hart?" Gabe asked jovially. I repeat: clueless. "Anne, that's the dude who came up with the term 'Pops'," he dug his arm into my side. I exhaled deeply and looked up politely to meet Brody, was it?

The boy had a frightening countenance with an elaborate Mohawk spiked atop his head and a ring in his lower lip. I faintly smiled and said, "Hi, Brody."

He actually smiled back; it was a bright smile that lit up his dark eyes and made him not look so terrifying. I'd had him pegged as a punk upon first glance. Now I wasn't so sure. He might be the only one at this table that liked me, aside from Gabe.

"And that's Mikael, Jordan," he launched into a long list of names. The one I remembered most vividly was Korbin. He was the one who had hated me so fiercely from the beginning. The others were kind of lackadaisical about my presence. What I had taken for angry glares were simply curious stares. Not many girls had eaten at their table, apparently.

"Hah, the Cullen family isn't here today and neither are the Hales, whoop, whoop!" Brody cheered as lunch neared its end. "I bet they're out hiking or something. It's supposed to be _sunny_ today. Can you believe it, in the middle of March?"

"Do you not like the Cullen family?" I ventured to ask. Brody nodded his head vigorously along with Gabe.

"Yeah, they are a bit odd. Don't want anything to do with nobody. Personally, they creep me out every single time they look at me," one of the boys said. I couldn't remember his name, but he was very earnest and plain about his words.

I considered my words before asking, "Do they get out of school a lot?"

"Crap yeah! Whenever it's sunny Mr. and Mrs. Cullen take them out to go hiking. What is wrong with my parents? Why can't they do that for me?" Gabe groaned sadly. "I wish I had an aunt and uncle like that!"

I felt kind of nosy as I wondered what happened to their parents. What business was it of mine to ask that? I kept quiet and sucked on my _delicious_ Kool-Aid. It was even better today than normal. I think it was because it was fresh.

"Watcha drinking?" Brody asked.

"Hot Kool-Aid," I replied. He sure was talkative.

"Can I have some?" he gave me a puppy dog face. I smacked him on the head, ruffling his Mohawk.

"No you can't have some!" I replied indignantly. "Mom's put me on a limit. Says I'm gonna get fat. Anyways, I don't know what sort of mouth diseases you have."

"But I don't have any…"

"Uh-uh," I stuck my tongue out at him before draining the rest of my drink. "I don't know if you're lying. What if I get cancer or syphilis or something?"

"You can spread syphilis by mouth? Oh, crap!" one of the boys at the table squeaked. They all burst out laughing, letting me know he was only joking. Even so, I would make sure not to go sharing my things with him.

I leaned over to Gabe and muttered, "What's that dude's name?"

"Who? Oh, that's Nate. Why?"

"Okay, Nate," I wrote the name down in my agenda. Beside his name I printed, 'Don't share ANYTHING with him (spit, food, and etcetera) -may have syphilis'.

"He wasn't serious…" Gabe guffawed.

"I'm covering _all_ of my bases. I don't want to have to explain to Victoria- er, Mom- why I have syphilis." Crap, I was getting bad about calling my mom by her first name. When I was nervous or supremely angry, I thought Mom in my head, but Victoria popped out of my mouth. She thought it was humorous most of the time. Sometimes it really made her mad, so I tried not to do it often. It slipped out at the worst moments, though. At least it wasn't an inopportune moment currently.

"Wow, I would never dare call my mom by her first name. She would beat me 'til I was black and blue all over then hand me over to Dad so he could break my neck," Gabe marveled.

"Did I say her first name? I think you're hearing things," I flushed before packing up my wrappers and putting away my canister. "It's time for Biology!" The bell rang, punctuating my statement.

"Joy!" he replied with an exaggerated sigh. I looked around the cafeteria once more, now painfully aware of the Cullen family's absence. I didn't know if I was hoping that I'd catch sight of them or not. My confrontation with them was more than a little confusing. It was to no avail, they were gone. I sighed and continued with my day, my heart a little heavier for it.

Classes were trivial really. I doodled through Bio and Spanish and stayed on the sidelines most of gym. I think the teacher was beginning to see how troublesome my inability to be coordinated was. Unlike yesterday, she wasn't as eager for me to 'get in the game'. Even if we played something like Ping-Pong, I'd still manage to take out someone's eye. Oh, I trust we don't play Ping-Pong now. I just totally jinxed myself.

Art was much like yesterday, except I chose to draw Gabe's little brother a picture for his birthday. Why couldn't I paint like my mom? She was such a pro with any art medium she chose: pencil, chalk, pastel, tempera, charcoal, even clay. I'm sure he'd enjoy something with color much more. That's what Gabe was doing with his werewolf drawing today. Coloring the wolf blonde and adding a luminous full moon to the barren wasteland the wolf stood in.

After much deliberating, I began to draw a man and a woman together. The woman was a tiny thing with big, doe-like eyes. They stared at me, begging for solace, rescue from the monster within. I let a few tendrils of blonde hair drift down from her tight bun, softening her face, bringing out a naivety that didn't actually exist in the woman. For now, I alone knew she what she was. Her eyes, so dark, were thirsty and lustful, ready to take her next victim.

I twisted her pouty, full lips into a snarl that displayed her fangs prominently. _Not so innocent now, are you?_ I mused. A nineteenth century ball gown took shape beneath my fingers, accentuating her delicate, porcelain body. I left no room for doubt; she _was_ a vampire and she _was_ going to kill you if given the chance. With a sense of irony, I added a black cloak that billowed behind her and clasped together at her collar. The clasp was engraved with a family crest. I don't know what it meant, but it added the air of mystery I needed to complete this woman.

The man was obviously her brother; well, obviously to me. No one else would know who he was to her. They wouldn't look anything like, what with his dark brown hair that fell just below the collar of his fancy, expensive jacket. His face was more composed, barely showing the tip of his fangs as he parted his luscious lips. His eyes were mischievous, but reserved for the most part. Unlike the girl, I didn't feel like he would rip my throat out and feed me to the sharks for fun. I think he would've been capable of much more mercy than that. Not to mention that he was one hot drawing! I kind of wanted to keep the picture for myself and draw another one for his brother.

Oops! I quickly sketched a brooch on the lapel of his suit with the same family crest as the girl. Now, if the viewer cared to look, they'd find that the two wore the same family crest. Both were a good distance apart from each other, as if they were on separate missions. I didn't want them to be mistaken as lovers. That would be bad on so many levels.

I carefully tore the page from the notebook and handed it to Gabe before I could change my mind. "This is for your little brother," I whispered tersely.

"Oh, wow," Gabe gasped. "Are you sure you want to give this to my little brother? This belongs in an art museum!"

"It's not that good," I replied, chagrin coloring my cheeks pink.

"Oh, yes it is," he insisted. He got up from his seat and went to the teacher. They talked for a moment before he left the room with my picture in hand. I began drawing something else while I nervously waited. It was the Native American boy from my dreams. I could already see his face in my mind, so out of place on his tawny, muscular body. His face was young; he had to be fifteen, _maybe_ sixteen if you squinted really hard, but his body was so brawny and filled out most would assume he was older.

His eyes were tilted upward, Asian in nature, and they twinkled like someone had plucked two stars from the sky and implanted them in his beautiful brown eyes. I happily drew them, sighing as they came to life. His mouth was next, upturned in a brilliant smile that displayed his perfectly straight teeth. He had an intricate dark tattoo on his right upper arm, but his shirt obscured most of it.

Just as I set my pencil down, my first drawing was slipped over it. "There you are," Gabe was glowing with pride.

"I can't accept this. I drew it for your brother, Gabe," I tried to give him the drawing back.

He held up an identical copy of the drawing and said, "The miracle of modern technology. I copied the original so you can make whatever changes you want to it and my little bro can't screw it up. It's what I do with every drawing I give him. He may be twelve, but he still has a nasty habit of trying to trace the things I make him with a permanent marker. Funny thing is permanent marker bleeds through and screws up the original drawing."

I laughed and thanked him. Without realizing it, I began to erase the woman's fangs and replace them with normal canine teeth. I knew vampires were alleged to have fangs, but the people in my mind's eye hadn't had fangs. I sealed the man's lip closed, leaving no hint that there ever was a fang there.

Gabe observed my frantic erasing and redrawing with a glint in his eye, "I thought vamps had fangs. Why are you erasing them?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "The urge overtook me, I guess. I just have a hard time imagining these characters with fangs. They're vampires, but not in the traditional sense. They're deadly because they can blend. Humans don't know what they are until the blood's been drained completely out of them. If vampires are real, and I'm not saying they are, they are definitely able to pass as human otherwise they'd have been hunted to extinction already."

Gabe nodded in agreement. "Good point, young samurai," he chuckled.

"Do not go all Star Trek on me."

"Uh, that's Star Wars for your information."

I rolled my eyes, "Whatever. They're both about pointless intergalactic space missions. The biggest climax was ruined by word of mouth. 'I am your father,'" I giggled, mimicking Darth Vader.

"That's a terrible impression of Darth," Gabe commented mildly.

"Yeah, yeah. And you can do better?" the bell rang at that moment, giving me the perfect exit phrase. "See you later, nerd," I teased as I gathered my things and headed out the door. It would've been the coolest exit in history if I hadn't managed to clip my hip on the corner of someone's desk. I winced in pain and stumbled over my graceless feet, barely succeeding in keeping myself upright. "Smooth girl," I muttered angrily. "Very smooth."

**So, who is the Native American boy she drew? Who are the vampires she drew? Why is she drawing them anyways? Could Gabe be her mate?! O.o Read and find out! Also, review for a cookie!**


	5. Chapter 5: An Old Friend

**Thank you again GrimFWaters and Amber Ice Fox for reviewing! You two definitely get cookies! Anyways, here's the next chapter. Hope ya'll enjoy. Like always feel free to give some feedback on how the story is going. Just please let it be constructive! Thank you!**

That night I slept like a baby and not in the figurative sense. Every two to three hours I'd wake up, panting, chasing a dream that had already slipped away. When it was finally time to get up I did so with great trepidation. My eyes were heavy and I couldn't quit yawning to save the life of me.

"Honey, you look terrible!" Mom exclaimed as I stumbled down my steps.

"Gee, be honest why don't you?" I barked as I rubbed my eyes, banishing the sleep from them.

She sighed and petted my head. "What did you dream about this time?"

"I don't remember," I sighed. I never did remember my dreams, but my nightmares seemed especially hard to remember. Nevertheless, unadulterated terror still coursed through my veins, prepared to face a foe I knew not.

"It'll be alright, sweetheart. I'll call you in and we'll make it a girl's day if you'd like," Mom offered. "I _know _that Prom is coming up and there's a really cool dress shop in the next town over…"

It was tempting to go to school just to avoid trying on dresses. I really wanted to see Gabe, after all. But… he could wait, couldn't he? Mom and I hadn't spent any time together since the big move. And, I _did _want to go to Prom even if I went by myself.

Strange as it may seem, I was really into getting the whole 'high school experience.' I went to every dance, game, and pep rally possible, if only to see my peers smiling and laughing and cheering. In those moments it didn't matter who I was because I was one of them. I was a tiger.

I nodded swiftly, causing my mom's face to light up in a smile. The little things made her so happy. "Laurent?" I heard Mom call as I proceeded to the bathroom.

"Whatever it is, Victoria, count me out," he said just as I shut the door. I wondered what Mom was going to have him do as I took a shower. Once out, I put on a pair of clothes that I'd laid out the night before. I was glad that I'd chosen my favorite pair of jeans and a pink, layered quarter length top. The high was supposed to be fifty today, for which I was glad. I hated the cold.

I wandered out of the bathroom as I yanked the brush through my hair, wanting to talk to my family. "Uncle Laurie?" I called.

He popped out of one of the guest rooms beside me. He was trying his hardest to scowl, but was failing. He knew what I wanted him to do. "What do you want, you ornery child?"

I put on my best puppy dog face and whispered, "Will you go look at dresses with me and Mom?"

"You know how I feel about malls, ma fifille," he patted my back gently. My face fell, disappointment clouding my countenance. "Oh, stop looking at me like that! I'll go, I'll go, I'll go!" he groaned and stalked back into his room to get dressed.

I snickered and quickly went back into the bathroom to part my hair. Once that was done I ran to the staircase and threw myself on the banister.

"Anne James Still-Hart, you stop that this instance! Your butt is not a dusting rag!"

"Sorry, Mama," I apologized quietly as I skidded to a stop at the base of the stairs. "I thought you sprayed Pine-Sol on the banister and forgot to wipe it up."

Mom scoffed and gave me my breakfast. I ate it in the living room while sketching the outline of something on the back of a napkin. Rather, it was someone: my dad. I sighed as I continued to draw him, wondering what act my hand would portray him in. I was rather surprised when a snarl morphed his perfect face into that of an animal. His body took shape, crouched like a lion preparing to strike. He was in a ballet studio, the mirror reflecting him and an indistinct woman…

"What is this?" Mom asked, snatching the napkin away from me. "Is that James, darling?"

"I, I don't know," I replied with a stutter. I had no idea how she'd react to my interpretation of my father. She could be awfully touchy about him sometimes.

"Well, it's quite remarkable. You have a talent as unique as my own! Is he attacking that girl?"

"Um, I," I was floored. She normally flipped when I even said his name. Yet, here she was, talking about him like he was still here, about to come home.

"Well, that doesn't matter. Please don't draw him again, especially in such a light. Why don't you maim Laurent next time?"

I nodded silently and watched her walk away with the napkin clutched to her heart like it was the greatest treasure known to man. Mom wasn't much of a material person, but a picture of Dad was a piece of gold. He loathed taking pictures when he was alive.

Laurie popped up, smiling at me. "Where's that bloody woman? She takes forever…"

_Honk! Honk! _

I grinned before replying, "Already in the car apparently." I tugged on a pair of chucks before dashing out the door, calling out to Laurie that I had shotgun. He beat me to the car, but forfeited the front because I'd claimed shotgun.

"Charles," I said in a poor British accent. "Would you be a dear and take us to the mall?"

"I am a woman, you insolent little girl!" Mom said roughly. I knew she was just kidding, so I pressed on.

"Okay then, _Carla_. Please, take us to the mall and in a hurry!"

"You're the silliest thing I've ever had the pleasure of bearing."

"I'm the only thing you've had the pleasure of bearing, Mom. Unless there are more brothers and sisters I don't know about," I gasped in mock-horror. "That's it, isn't it? I have a secret twin who goes to some spy boarding school!"

"You wish. If there were two of you the world would spontaneously combust," Laurie snorted. I swiveled around to glare at him.

I glared at him and replied, "I'll have you know that this world would be a splendid place if there were millions of copies of me! Now you, on the other hand…"

Mom cut in with a strident, "Children, I will turn this car around. It isn't too late for you to go to first period, Anne. And, as for you mister, it's certainly not too late for you to clean house."

"Um, well, look at that Laurie. You _are _the best person in the world. I could not even compare to your magnificence at playing the… whatever it is you play."

"Lleoto, ma fifille," Laurie laughed.

Mom sighed in exasperation, "The _flute_, Laurent. Darling Anne doesn't understand your French jargon. You're lucky she knows what _ma fifille_ means."

I laughed nervously inside my head. He had told me a long, long time ago what _ma fifille _meant, but I hadn't seen him in forever. I knew more about Morse code than I did about his little French endearment. Shoot, I knew more about Latin, German, Italian, British, and Spanish- albeit, the majority of my knowledge was of fragmented hellos and goodbyes- then I knew about French. Bonjour, Oui, and Mademoiselle comprised my limited vocabulary of Laurent's home language.

"So, Anne, what does that mean?" Laurie asked with a sardonic tone. He knew that I didn't have the slightest clue.

"Well, that's a good question that I definitely know the answer to. Just give me a moment to dredge it up and I promise I'll tell you. Maybe we should wait until I get home…" and look it up online "…before I tell you…"

"It means 'my little girl.'" Laurie supplied. "See, Victoria, my French still hasn't rubbed off on her. She needs to hear it more often."

Mom rolled her eyes and picked up speed as we got onto the highway. "Yeah, one day she'll speak it, maybe one day."

It was a two hour long car drive to the town with the oh-so-important dress shop. It was a small town, about the size of Otis, and it made me question my mother's sanity. There were plenty of big name dress shops, twenty, thirty minutes away from Otis. Why did she travel out here, in the middle of nowhere, to visit a dress shop that probably had a small selection of overpriced dresses? It was beyond my comprehension.

I'll admit the building the shop was located in was beautiful. An older Victorian painted baby blue to offset it against the horrendous green backdrop, anyone would blink twice as they passed it by just to make sure it was real. The porch was big and welcoming, pure white, and intricately carved with designs. It was so unlike modern day homes; these homes cared about the person entering, not the car parked inside the hulking garage, bigger than the house itself.

I trailed after my mom as she walked up the steps, into the shop. It was like stepping back into the past. Victorian furniture populated the foyer; everything from a dark red couch to a stuffed deer head to an antique display case of porcelain dolls lined the walls.

"Noel!" Mom called as she stalked further into the home. I was quick on her heels, unwilling to be accused of dawdling. We walked through a simple archway into what was once the parlor. A mahogany desk was placed off to the side of the room with a poufy chair behind it. Dozens of files were scattered all across the surface, some open, some shut, and some thrown haphazardly to the floor.

I noticed that a few of the poufy chairs were positioned expertly around the room to give it an air of hospitality. Three cloth mannequins were arranged between the couches with beautiful dresses hanging from their shoulders. One was a gorgeous wedding dress, one was a simple evening gown, and the last was a gown fit for Queen Elizabeth I. They were all in various stages of completion, making me think this was where she made the gowns and adjusted them.

"How can I help you?" a girl of about thirteen asked quietly. She was quite beautiful for her age; she'd make a wonderful supermodel when she got older. She had night black hair that reached just past her waist and big, fiery eyes that burned into my soul. They never left me, even as she spoke.

"Where's Noël?" Mom inquired tightly. As if on instinct, she pulled me closer to her, taking on a slightly protective stance.

The girl replied with a delicate, southern accent, "She ain't gonna be back for another hour; just left to grab lunch or something. I can help ya until she returns."

Laurent petted my hair tenderly as Mom nodded shortly.

"So what brings you all the way to our little shop, searching for Noel? Ain't nobody called her dat in years. Trust me, I been with her since '06."

Gosh, the girl must've been much older than I thought. That was about seven years ago. Unless… I bet the girl had been adopted at an early age. That explained it. It was so sad though. Never knowing who your parents were, always wondering if they gave you up because they had to or because they didn't want you. I could never deal with it if I had been adopted. I just couldn't.

"Who's the child you got with ya, Miss?"

"I'm Anne Still-Heart, her daughter. I know we could pass off as sisters; the resemblance is uncanny, right? I'm looking for a Prom dress."

The girl laughed and shook her head. "Well, ya'll can call me Dee, though I'm really Desirae. Follow me!" We went upstairs to the tower room where there were racks and racks of dresses for Prom. Laurent picked out the first one, a big, froofy pink monster with feathers and gems everywhere. I gagged mentally even as I courteously tried it on. Mom saved me by declaring that no daughter of hers was ever going to wear something so hideous and gaudy to prom.

She chose the next one, a more modest, elegant cocktail dress colored a dark blue to contrast my milky skin. It was beautiful, but not what I was looking for. The girl, Dee, chose a number of dresses that looked awesome, but didn't fit. It seemed like all the pretty dresses didn't fit me and all the ugly ones did.

Dee was showing me one particularly beautiful dress when her head shot up. "The missus is here, ma'am," she said, thrusting the dress onto the rack and hurrying downstairs.

"Desirae, my dear!" I heard a sweet female voice greet the young girl merrily. She sounded like she had an Irish accent. As soon as the voice was heard, Mom took hold of my hand and descended the steps to meet Noel. "VICTORIA!" a fairly young woman jumped up and down in excitement upon seeing Mom.

"Hello, Noel," Mom smiled softly. Her eyes got glassy, as if she wanted to cry, but she didn't. The woman had rushed over to us and taken Mom into her arms. Mom wasn't much of a hugger, but, all the same, she returned the embrace. They must've been close. I scarcely knew anyone Mom would hug.

I stepped away and examined the woman a bit more closely. She had dark hair and crimson eyes. I wondered if Mom was in a cult; almost everyone she knew had red contacts. Maybe they were just popular amongst her group of friends. This woman's face was harder, less easily broken than Mom's. It was plaintive that she could hold her own.

"Who are these two?" Noel asked as she pulled away from Mom. Laurie tapped my shoulder, nearly giving me a heart attack. I was so paying him back on the way home!

Mom smiled proudly as she went to stand behind me, beside Laurent. "This is my daughter, Anne and that's Laurent, my friend."

Her eyes got wide as she stared at me, "Oh, Victoria, you didn't, did you?"

"No, no, no. It's not at all what you think, Noel. I'll explain later. Right now we are here to get a dress for my little Anne. She's going to Prom."

"She's such a little thing. How old is she?" Noel asked carefully as if the question had a double meaning.

I butted in and replied, "I'm sixteen… well, almost sixteen. I skipped a grade, so I'm a junior. Not that it matters, because I can graduate after the first semester of my senior year…"

"Wow, you're mighty ambitious. Are you going to apply for any colleges?" she asked as she guided us back upstairs.

"Nah, I thought I'd take a gap year and travel Europe with my mom. She's really excited to see what she calls the 'home country.'" With shock I realized I was talking to this woman as easily as I would Mom and Laurie. There were few people who could get me out of my shell; apparently this woman was one of them.

"Well, what dresses has she tried on already, Dee?"

"She's too scrawny, ma'am. She's tried about every dress in the store."

"Well, I think I can custom make one for my best mate's daughter," she disappeared into another room and came back with rolls of cloth in a variety of shades and textures. "What's your favorite color?"

"Um, green? Blue?"

She pulled out a light jade pattern that was soft and fluid as silk. With expert fingers she layered an iridescent gold cloth over it and asked me if I liked it. I nodded quietly, looking at it in shock. It was already beautiful and it wasn't even a dress.

"Hold your arms out, I'm going to measure you then you all can be on your way."

"Thank you," I whispered as she wrapped the measuring tape around my bust, waist, and arm. She took note of my height and weight, scrawling it down faster than I could blink.

Before I knew it Mom and Noel were exchanging tearful goodbyes and then we were gone.

**Been a while since I've posted I know. Life and high school. Man, they are just getting in the way. Here's a quote I thought would go good with Anne. **

_**She was like the moon. Half of her was always hidden. **_


	6. Chapter 6: Bloody Bonfire

**So, I kinda put that in to define my character more. I feel like she's coming out pretty nicely. Thank you for continuing to read this. Please R&R, it makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside! On with the story: **

With the weekend came an invitation to my first bonfire via Gabe. His argument was a very flimsy one: it was on a private beach on the outskirts of Lincoln City, and anyone who was anyone was going to be there. My argument was very stable: it was going to be a very chilly night and I didn't really see the appeal in a bonfire. Gabe kept bugging and bugging and bugging me until I finally gave in. My instincts screamed at me to just shut up while, like the idiot I am, I said yeah, sure, why not?

Standing on the chilly beach, light flickering from the growing fire, I seriously doubted my sanity. Even in my jeans, boots, sweater, and fluffy North Face I was still freezing my butt off. The wind here was merciless, whipping my hair around, trying to pull me out to sea, lashing angrily at my face when I resisted.

"Cold?" Gabe asked as he walked over to me with two red solo cups. I hadn't thought about beer being here. _Duh, it's a teenage party. What did you expect?_ My inner-voice mocked me. I'd told Mom that there would be no beer, no drugs, nothing of the sort. Apparently, I'd unknowingly lied.

"Yeah," I muttered. I took the cup in hand, setting it down on the bench beside me. I wanted nothing to do with the stuff, like ever. Mom's nose was sharper than a hound dog and would smell it on me a mile away.

I saw the 'pops' as Gabe called them talking to some of Gabe's friends. He scowled unhappily, as if his glare would make them move away from each other.

Brody came stumbling up to us, more hammered then a nail. "What's up, Bro?" Brody hugged Gabe tightly. I couldn't comprehend how he had gotten drunk in less than five minutes, but that's guys for you. They can't even hold their liquor.

"Lay off the liquor, man. It isn't good for your liver. Sarah don't like it none either," Gabe admonished him.

"Yes, mother," Brody quipped before staggering away. He was such an idiot.

I rolled my eyes and gasped as I realized it was almost a full moon. The moon only had a sliver to go before her pale luminous face lit upon us all.

Gabe looked at me curiously, so I supplied the information to him with a beam, "Look! The moon's going to be full soon! I love the moon!" I giggled like a school girl and blushed at how eager I was for it. He must think me so stupid.

His face was startled, as if something very troubling had just been told him. "Oh, the moon's going to be full soon," he whispered. His voice was sullen, reluctant.

"What's wrong?"

"Time just got away from me is all," he shrugged before going to sit by the bonfire. I joined him with concern only to realize that Korbin was right across from me, twisting a devastatingly beautiful tale. His voice was haunting, gluing me to my seat.

"Once, there was a great race of people that roamed the earth. Well, they weren't really people. They were wolves disguised as people, created by the moon to watch over the humans that the sun had placed on the Earth so merrily. You see, she knew something that the sun did not. The stars had just witnessed a man die for the very first time. They were heartbroken because they loved this man dearly and wished for him to live forever. The stars came up with a plan to revive the man's body, though it did not go as expected. They infused his soul back into the dead body, but, as hard as they tried, they could not get his heart to beat. The man's soul struggled in the vessel that was his body, feeling it decay, giving itself away to Mother Earth, until the earth finally decided to have mercy upon the poor man.

"My children always know how to make a mess of things," she sighed. "Your body must be preserved if you are to live in it forever. I will make your skin as granite so you will not have to suffer decay as the truly dead should. I will enhance your senses and make you beautiful once more, for your soul, I can sense, is the most beautiful I've seen in a man of your stature."

But, alas, the man still could not move. So, Mother Earth brought one of the dead man's enemies to his graveside. The enemy was quite surprised to see his former enemy lying in the open, but not as surprised as he was to see that the man had yet to wither away. By this time it had been over fifty years since his passing.

The Earth whispered to the evil man, enlisting the moon's help to convince him to give up his lifeblood. The man took a sharp object, presumably a knife, and cut into his wrist. Blood splashed onto the good man's face, a few drops trickling into his mouth. Within the blink of an eye the good man had fallen upon the bad man and consumed every drop of his life's blood. Content, Mother Earth smile upon her creation. Now everything was right with the world… until the good man found the blood supply dwindling within his immortal body. Thirst like no other consumed him, forcing him to take the life of innocent after innocent.

The earth could only weep as her good creation crumbled into something evil. This is what caused the moon to create the wolf men. But, as the leech had turned evil so did this creation. The men could not handle the transition from man to wolf and went rabid whenever they turned wolf. Both creations got so out of hand that the sun had to step in to save the human race. The sun cursed the leeches with the inability to cross into the sun and the wolves with the inability to turn on any other night aside from the full moon. And that is how it has been ever since."

I shuddered and quickly crossed away from the bonfire. I hated ghost stories and he sounded so intense. Korbin began to approach me, but Gabe intersected him. He said something and suddenly they were screaming at each other. Korbin reared his fist back and smashed it into Gabe's face. I didn't know what to do. I paused for a moment then took off.

I don't know how long I ran, it could've been minutes or hours. I lost my kicks somewhere in the beginning, but at that point I didn't care. I just _had_ to get away from the two screaming guys. I couldn't handle yelling, let alone fighting.

Now, my aching feet were telling me I should've cared. The sand was rough and grainy even with my socks on. High tide was coming in and there were cliffs on my right and water on my left. My heart pummeled against my chest as I did the single most stupid thing I'd ever done in my entire life. I decided to try and climb the cliff.

Before you ask, no, it most certainly did not cross my mind to run back the way I came. I saw the water coming closer and closer and I just panicked. Mama would've been so disappointed in me. She always told me that the one thing you never do is panic. So, what do I do? Well, that's easy, I panic.

First thing first, I peeled off my socks and cast them aside. They were already ruined anyways. I grabbed onto a thin handhold and scrabbled against it with my toes to heave myself up. I then carefully let go with one hand and felt for a hold with it. The process was grueling and thankless. Twice I had to restart because I fell straight on my behind. The second time I actually fell into shallow ocean water. If that wasn't enough to kick start my adrenaline pump, I'm not sure what is.

Never had I realized what water did to a clumsy person. It makes them into a bumbling accident waiting to happen. But, when it comes to climbing a cliff with wet, stick arms and drowning, I think I'd pick climbing the cliff. If only it were my mom doing it. I bet she could manage it in one go and look beautiful while doing it.

Me? Well, I was dripping with seawater and shaking like a leaf at the end of autumn. It wasn't attractive and it certainly wasn't beneficial. My hands and feet, wet from seawater, kept slipping. My hair fell into my eyes, burning them with salt. I couldn't do it, I couldn't do it. I was nowhere near the top and I was going to fall and…

"Ah!" I let out a shriek of joy as my groping hand found a flat space. With every last ounce of my strength I heaved my upper body onto the flat space. I curled my legs into my body and just lay there for a moment, stunned that I'd actually done it. Of all the things that hurt, it was my throat that got the worst end of the deal. Flames were licking my tender esophagus, scorching it black.

I unsteadily sat up and took category of my injuries. It appeared that I had busted my knee pretty good and scraped my palms. I guess those falls were worse than I thought.

Next priority, figure out where the heck I am. Forest surrounded me (surprise, surprise), but there was a small path that cut through the dense greenery. I struggled upright, still weak from climbing, and made my way to the path's mouth. It must've been a well-traveled path because there was barely any debris to trip me up. That was all I needed right now, a tiny tree root about the size of my hand reaching out to grab my unsuspecting foot.

A light appeared in the distance and I soon made out a sprawling white house, er, mansion. It was way too big to be a house. There were like five stories, each with their own balcony-porch thing. I was quite hesitant to disrupt them at this hour, especially since they seemed to have a lot of money, but I needed to get home and I had no idea where I was. Quietly, I made my way up to the front porch and rapped against the door.

A very familiar popular girl answered the door, "Anne, is that you?"

"Yeah," I smiled weakly. Never had I been so excited to see Charity in all my life. She hadn't been at school all week; there were rumors that she transferred or was put on homebound. I was assuming the latter as she looked very frail and weak. She was in a long white nightgown that seemed to swallow her whole. How did someone go from peppy, spitball cheerleader to weak and frail in a day?

"What are you doing here this late? Did the teacher's ask you to tutor me? I told them I didn't want anyone to tutor me anymore."

"No, no, I'm not here to tutor you, Charity," I assured her quietly. "I'm lost. I was at a bonfire and I wondered off…"

"Oh, it's like really chilly. Want to come in? Mom and Dad are off at some charity ball for the night, so they won't care," she held open the door for me, so I entered. It was so fancy and cold in there, almost like no one had lived there ever.

"Your home is pretty," I remarked awkwardly.

"Yeah, I guess it is. Has anyone missed me at school? I know I left quite abruptly. I wonder what rumors people have spread…"

"Well, some say you just transferred. Others say you're going to die. And still others say you were put into witness protection because your big brother was shot by an assassin aiming for you."

"Uh huh," she nodded as we entered a great big living room. "Sit down, I'll pull my laptop out and map quest where you live."

I hesitantly sat down on the loveseat, almost afraid I would break it. It just looked so new and expensive. Charity came back with a Mac held casually underneath her left arm. She plopped down beside me like the loveseat wasn't worth ten thousand, twenty thousand dollars.

"So, why aren't you at school?" I ventured to say as she began typing away on the Mac.

"I came out of remission," she whispered as she pulled up map quest. "Don't say anything to anyone at school, but it's gotten to stage 4."

"What has?" I asked though I already knew. It was the same thing that had ripped my dad away from me.

"The cancer," her lips barely moved. As soon as the word was spoken she began to cry, cry great, bursting sobs that wracked her frail body. "They said they got rid of it ten years ago. Then it came back and they said they got rid of it again. Mama says the lungs surround the heart for a reason, but my lungs have spread it to my heart," she began to talk rapidly, incoherently. From what I gathered, she had lung cancer and the cancer had spread to her heart. It was killing her and it was killing her fast.

I didn't know what to do, so I hugged her, hugged her hard and long. Why weren't her parents here for her when she so obviously needed them? It was obvious why she put on such a cold, careless exterior. It was the only sort of exterior she knew how to put on. If she didn't put it on then she would only have her vulnerable, scared interior and that wasn't good for anything in this world.

Suddenly, the burning in my throat came back with a fiery vengeance. I could hear her heartbeat thrumming rapidly, too rapidly to be healthy. It was fighting the cancer, fighting to stay alive for a few more minutes, a few more hours. I closed my eyes, entranced by the sounds of battle. If I listened closely enough I could almost hear the blood exiting her aorta, flowing through her capillaries and veins back to the original source.

"Here, forget the map quest," she muttered, flinging her computer to the floor. It hit the hardwood with a dull thud that made me wince, breaking my trance. That was such a nice piece of hardware… "HENRY! HENRY! HENRY!" I heard Charity scream, her voice echoing through the house.

"Oi, what do you want sis?" an older guy came stumbling out from a room upstairs.

"I need you to drive Anne to her house," she popped up behind him, light flashing in her pale, tired eyes.

"It's like eleven o'clock at night. What do you take me for, a freaking chauffer?"

"No, I take you for my big brother who wouldn't want me to drive on these roads at night with my condition."

Mentioning her illness seemed to snap things into perspective for him. He blinked, as if to ward off the tears that came with mention of such things. His voice was gruffer, less harsh, as he said, "Yeah, sure sis. Want to ride shotgun?"

"Only if you take Old Red," she grinned weakly and hopped to the garage. It was filled with vehicles. I didn't even know what make or model or year they were, but I didn't have to. It was plaintive that one vehicle was worth more than triple my life.

As we got into one of the older vehicles in the massive garage, something weird happened. Well, weird for me anyways. I caught a glimpse of an image, fleeting though it was. It was Charity as a child, swinging her legs back and forth in her car seat. She had a knit cap fit snugly on her head to hide the fact that she'd just had chemo…

"Get in the car, in the car, in the car…" I whispered quietly and clambered in. I didn't see no such thing. It was just my imagination.

"So, where do you live again?"

"Uh," I couldn't remember my address, "In Otis?"

"That's a whole other town over!" he yelped even as he started the car.

"But, Henry…" Charity whimpered like a kicked kitten. He exhaled roughly and began to drive. After what felt like forever he was pulling through the tiny town. I directed him very easily to my drive. I paused for a moment, uncertain what to say.

The moment yawned on, long and painful, before I finally whispered, "Charity, if you ever need any company…"

"I got it. I'll send you a letter. Better yet, I'll send you a Henry."

"Thanks again," I smiled softly before clambering out and walking away. The car hummed softly as it grew farther away. Charity wasn't so bad. People were like onions; they had so many layers it wasn't even funny. I bet even Korbin had a few layers I didn't know about. Albeit I wouldn't be getting close enough to him to find out.

I opened the door quietly, humming softly to myself.

"Hi, Mom-" my smile faded as I took in the sight before me. Mom was sitting in the living room off to the side with a cold glint to her eye. Gabe was sitting in the chair across from Mom with an equal look of hatred in his eyes. Laurent was nowhere to be seen, probably searching for a nice rabbit to cook for dinner tomorrow night. Tomorrow night's stew would taste so good… if I lived to see it.

"What happened? Are you hurt? You're bleeding!" Mom was up in an instant, making me wonder if she was actually mad at me. Maybe it was Gabe she was mad at. I could only hope.

"I'm fine, Mom. I just fell and scraped my knees."

"Doing _what_ exactly young lady?" My mother was the most bipolar woman I'd ever known. Her voice snapped from concerned to angry, overbearing Mama Bear in two seconds flat.

Okay, what's a lie that's actually feasible? "Gabe and Korbin got into a fight. It scared me, so I took off running. I tripped over some driftwood and landed on some rocks. They skinned my hands and knees up pretty bad. My kicks got swept up by the incoming tide, too."

"Well, I'm not buying you a new pair because you are lying to me, missy!"

I blinked and raced after her as she went back to the couch. "Whoa, Momma, c'mon, we can talk this through. You see, I _did_ run, but I climbed a cliff instead of tripping."

"I'm debating on whether to hug you or slap you right now; my more violent tendency seems to be winning out."

I ducked right as she came at me with her palm. It curved and brought me into a deep hug. She was half-crying, half-laughing, though no tears actually fell from her eyes. She was the only girl I'd ever met who was incapable of tearing up.

Gabe cleared his throat and began to back towards the door. "Well, then, if you'll excuse me…"

"**Not so fast**," Momma literally growled at him. Her eyes were like twin laser beams, pinning him in place. "Why did you think you could go anywhere with _my_ daughter, dog?"

"Um, we're just friends, ma'am. I was very concerned about her well-being, so I decided to come to you to see if you could help me find her." He was so drunk right now. I could see it in his eyes. They were having trouble focusing. Not to mention he smelt like cat pee.

Mom snorted before replying, "And why couldn't you use that sniffer of yours? Too busy sticking it up your leader's butt?"

A thought just clicked in my head, "Hey, how'd you know where I lived anyways?"

I snapped my mouth shut, wishing I'd never said anything. It was all I could do to keep Mom from unhinging her jaw and swallowing that poor soul whole.

"Urm, yeah, I'll be going now. Have a nice day!" he shouted as he dashed out the door. He tripped a little, but recovered rather quickly for an inebriated person. Fortunately, he hadn't brought his truck, so I assumed he'd hoofed it. Better for him to walk drunk than drive drunk. I wasn't dumb enough to go back out there and ask if he needed a lift. I was probably grounded until I went in the ground.

Mom led me to the bathroom where she helped me clean my scrapes and gashes up.

"I think I might be getting sick, Momma," I told her as she led me to the kitchen to grab a midnight snack.

"And why's that?" she hummed a little as she took out a pitcher of Kool-Aid and a cold hamburger patty. It was partially cooked, just the way I liked it.

"My throat is killing me. It feels like I've smoked a pack a day for seventy years, nonstop."

"Uh huh," she muttered to herself. "Drink up. I'm sure you're just thirsty."

I did as she said and man did that feel a world better.

She handed me a can of Lysol after I was done and said, "Now, your punishment is to get the smell of dog out of my living room. It's repulsing."

"Mom, it isn't nice to call people 'dog'," I scolded her as I walked downstairs.

"Not when it's the truth."

**So, what do ya'll think? I hope you like it. Took me forever to come up with it. Pretty dramatic. Is Gabe a stalker? O.o **


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